


A Suitable Valentine

by langmaor



Category: Fate/Grand Order
Genre: Anal Sex, M/M, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-28
Updated: 2020-03-28
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:14:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23363035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/langmaor/pseuds/langmaor
Summary: Merlin takes a deep breath, giving himself yet another once-over in the full length mirror of his room. He fiddles with the lapels of his coat, fusses over strands of his hair that have fallen out of place. He’s dressed to perfection, his suit’s immaculate, he’s got a signature flower tucked into his breast pocket... and yet. And yet.God, he's nervous.
Relationships: Gilgamesh | Caster/Merlin | Caster
Comments: 2
Kudos: 35





	A Suitable Valentine

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Raesha](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raesha/gifts).



> Valentine's fic in borderline April? It's more likely than you think.
> 
> I did indeed start it like... 3 days before Valentines' but as you can see, Things Happen. The outfits described in the fic are the ones released to celebrate the Babylonia anime release, you can see them here https://twitter.com/MAO_BUN_26/status/1223541246028734464
> 
> I wrote this as a gift for someone!

Merlin takes a deep breath, giving himself the three-thousandth once-over in the full length mirror of his room.

He fiddles with the lapels of his coat, fusses over strands of his hair that have fallen out of place. The gloves feel foreign on his fingers; they’re new to him, but he likes the way they look. 

The deep breath doesn't do much to calm his nerves. A quick glance at the clock will tell him he’s been at this for longer than an hour, but doing that doesn’t even cross his mind.

“Merlin.”

It definitely feels odd letting his hair down and not holding it in place with his usual cloak. But this isn’t bad, for a change - he does like the way the braid rests on his shoulder, framing his face. The contrast between his pale skin and his black gloves is quite striking, if he says so himself.

“Merlin.”

Yeah. Yeah, he’s dressed to perfection, Merlin thinks. His suit’s immaculate, he’s got a signature flower tucked into his breast pocket, his hair’s perfectly arranged... and yet. And yet.

_God, I’m nervous._

“ _Merlin._ ”

He jumps at that, before the situation falls into place. Artoria stares at him with a gaze that’s equal parts exasperation, pity, and patience. She sighs, picking up the bouquet of flowers he’d painstakingly arranged and wrapped earlier.

“You’ve been fretting about this for far too long. Hold this and sit down.”

He does as he’s told, all the while conscious of the queasiness threatening to overtake him. The scent of the flowers is indeed calming, and despite himself he finds his shoulders relaxing.

“It’s only a dinner,” Artoria reminds him, “Just one meal. With someone you’ve been involved with for months now.”

“Well yes but,” Merlin looks away, cheeks already reddening, “It’s a _date._ ”

He hears Artoria curse under her breath.

“You know, if you ask me, that man isn’t worth this much concern,” she points out.

“Well,” Merlin opens his mouth, “uh.”

Artoria rolls her eyes. “Thank you for that extremely persuasive argument. Well, it’s nearly the time you two agreed to meet up,” she points out. “Knowing him, he will be arriving to escort you soon.”

Her words bring all the nervousness right back to him, and he stiffens instinctively. 

“Please don’t act so pathetic,” she pinches the bridge of her nose, exasperation evident on her face. “You will be fine, I guarantee it.”

Almost on cue, a rap on the door alerts both of them. Merlin rises to his feet, stomach dropping to his knees; it takes only a second for the automatic door to slide open and grant the visitor entrance, but it still feels like an eternity watching it happen.

And then... there he stands. Gilgamesh.

To say he looks stunning is an understatement. Merlin’s never seen the appeal of this western style of dress much before, but watching this three-piece hug Gil’s slender frame and accentuate his curves; watching the suit loosely draped over Gil’s lithe shoulders, the tie snug against his neck… 

Merlin almost doesn’t realize he’s been openly staring, awe on his face, and his eyes snap to Gil’s face with an embarrassed blush, only to find Gil staring right back at him, an appreciative smile on his face.

“If you could save the lovesick gazes for when you’re in private,” Artoria cuts in, already edging toward the door.

“Oh, Saber,” he acknowledges her presence, not tearing his eyes away from Merlin despite addressing her. “I didn’t notice you there. Try being taller.”

“I doubt you’d notice an elephant in the room right now, Gilgamesh,” Artoria quips back, “try using your eyes for something other than mentally undressing people. Good day to you two.”

The door slides shut behind her with a neat _click,_ and only a second later, Gil is at his side.

“You look so good,” Gil whispers into his ear, taking him by the elbows and pressing him against the wall with a grace that makes Merlin go so very _weak_ in the knees. “Absolutely amazing, you know that?”

“My king,” Merlin murmurs, trying not to tremble as Gil plants a series of kisses beginning with his cheek, the corner of his mouth, and finally, his lips. Sure, he might not be nervous anymore, but these butterflies in his stomach _can’t_ be good for him. “That’s my line, you know?”

“Hm?” Gil cocks an eyebrow, one hand latching on to Merlin’s waist and pulling him ever so closer.

It’s definitely different from what he’s used to their kisses being like; there’s no bare skin at his fingertips; there’s not much sensation in his fingers at all, in fact, thanks to his gloves. But this isn’t a bad feeling, not at all. Gil’s kisses tonight are so very soft, Merlin can’t help feeling like chocolate himself, overly sweetened and about to melt into a puddle.

It’s obviously with immense mental effort that Gil pulls away, clearing his throat.

“As much as I’d love to take this further,” Gil begins, and Merlin zones out for a second, intensely hyperfocusing on how sexy Gil looks as he straightens his tie, “We’re keeping dinner waiting.”

“Oh. Right, that’s—” Merlin tries to form a sentence, tries to drag his head back to the present instead of among the stars where it currently seems to be.

“Later tonight,” Gil whispers, pressing a kiss to Merlin’s ear. It’s both a promise and a command at the same.

“About that,” Merlin chips in, hands clasping Gil’s in his own, the brightest smile on his face, “My king. I was thinking. I want to…”

“You want to…?”

“I want you to... fuck me tonight.”

There’s only a moment’s flash of surprise that makes itself known on Gil’s face, even as he stiffens. Gil stays frozen like that for a while longer, and Merlin takes great delight in the way he can almost _see_ the possibilities run through his head.

“Damn it, you little devil,” he softly responds, forehead creasing. “How am I supposed to sit through a meal like this?”

Merlin does laugh at that, pressing a single placating kiss to Gil’s knuckles, taking him by the arm and waltzing them towards the exit. 

Dinner’s really more a formality than anything, even if they both enjoy every moment of it. A quote from some book he’s read resurfaces in Merlin’s mind - something to the effect of _On a date with the right person, the whole evening becomes a drawn-out foreplay session._ He knows what the author meant now, this palpable friction between them each time they make eye contact.

About halfway through their dinner, there’s the very pointed feeling of someone staring daggers into his back. If Gil notices the devious glint in Merlin’s eye as he reaches over, pretending to brush away a stray morsel from the corner of Gil’s mouth, he doesn’t comment on it, simply smirking in response.

Merlin resists the urge to laugh as the scent of jealousy permeates the room, taking a wicked sort of delight in the knowledge that he’s only flaunting what’s rightfully his.

“Why don’t you stop cowering behind that counter and share what’s on your mind, Ishtar?” 

Merlin really _does_ laugh out loud at that. He’d expect no less from his king, coolly taking the bull by the horns and dragging it out into the open.

“I’m not cowering! Idiot! Fool! If anyone’s cowering it’s that dumb pharaoh over there!” Instantly defensive, she whines in her usual high pitched tone, finger pointed straight at the table a little ways away from them.

“Sunk so low we’re using innocent bystanders as distractions, are we?” Gil fires back, leaning back in his chair.

“No, you blind ass! Look behind her!”

Curiosity piqued, they both turn around to take a closer look. Indeed, there’s Nitocris - or, they assume it’s Nitocris, but naturally in her summer clothes it might as well be someone else - but there _is_ someone in the chair behind her.

“King Ozymandias?” Merlin guesses, half-disbelieving. Did he pick the seat in the darkest corner on purpose? A fork clatters to the ground as they both trip over themselves to speak.

“He’s only here to accompany me—”

“I’m not with her—”

Both pharaohs still, deep disappointment etched on their faces. Merlin would be disappointed too, if he’d tried to spy with a partner and not work out a cover story beforehand. _Amateurs._

“We seem to be the center of attention tonight, Merlin,” Gil comments, placing his elbows on the table and leaning forward. Merlin mirrors him, skewering a cherry from their dessert with a toothpick and feeding it to Gil before replying.

“We most surely do, my king.”

“GOD,” Ishtar yells, pulling at her hair, “this is so stupid. I was only waiting to give you stupidly attractive fools these shitty chocolates I didn’t even want to make but I literally don’t care anymore!” 

Gil looks at her, curious.

“Fools? My, Ishtar, have you been eyeing my mage in addition to myself recently?”

Ishtar recoils, nearly knocking over the two - indeed, there’s two boxes, Merlin notices - neatly packaged and resting on the counter she’s got a vice grip on.

“I’ve got better things to do than eye—” She begins to float, babbling nonsense even as she makes a beeline for the exit at breakneck speed. She clearly hasn’t gotten the hang of levitation indoors, because she crashes right into a table, knocking it clean over and sending cutlery flying all over the place. Merlin sure is glad he’s not Ozymandias right now.

As if that wasn’t bad enough, a _scream_ rings out, and a mop of blond hair pops out from underneath, cradling his poor head.

“Ouch, ouch, what the hell?!”

Silence reigns. Even Ishtar drops to her knees in astonishment before screaming.

“Doctor Roman?!”

“Wait, I can explain this, just keep your voice d—”

 _Oh, this is getting messy._ Merlin catches Gil’s eye, and in one moment he knows they’re both thinking the same thing. He closes his eyes, taking only a second to gather his thoughts, lips moving in a silent incantation.

“There we go,” Merlin finishes, a pleased smile on his face. Now that he looks around, he can see Ishtar still yelling at the Doctor while the door is thrown open by Master, a confused but pleasantly amicable Arthur trailing not too far behind. 

“This is the problem with living outside castles,” Gil grumbles, rising from his seat unnoticed despite the chaos that’s taken root around them.

Merlin laughs politely, ducking just in time to avoid the spoon that Romani has, for some reason, tossed halfway across the room. The spell he’s used is sloppily thrown together, and doesn’t allow them to perceive sound from the outside very clearly.

“Let me just…” he zips toward the kitchen counter, scooping up the chocolates Ishtar had meant for them and slipping them into his pocket.

Gil chuckles, holding out an arm that Merlin is only too pleased to grab on to as they sidestep the crowd and take their leave. Ah, he’s glad he’s so adept at illusion magic.

In retrospect, they must have drawn a lot of attention walking back to their room, clinging to each other as they were, but Merlin doesn’t remember a single thing about the walk back. He doesn’t remember when Gil’s fingers unbuttoned his suit and slipped it off his shoulders, he doesn’t remember if Gil loosening and divesting himself of his tie is supposed to look this sexy, or…

“Mmh… my king, you’re…”

Pressed onto the bed like this, with Gil’s hungry kisses leaving him breathless while his hands wander, Merlin can’t really find the headspace to form a sentence.

“You little devil,” Gil says in the middle of peppering him with kisses, “do you know how hard it was to keep my hands off of you this whole time?”

Merlin laughs, breathy and uncertain, still trying to get his brain to work past the vicious thrill those words give him. He gives up the attempt when Gil kisses him hard and proper; instead, he simply closes his eyes and wraps his arms around the other’s neck, deepening their kiss.

His anticipation has been building up all evening; he really doesn’t think he can be blamed for wanting to be spoiled tonight. Thankfully Gil seems more than happy to oblige, hiking up Merlin’s undershirt and rubbing circles around Merlin’s nipples with his thumbs.

“Gil,” he moans, back arching into the touch. “More.”

“Hm…” Gil cocks an eyebrow at him. It’s kind of cute, Merlin thinks hazily, how unaffected he’s trying to seem when his pupils are so blown. “I suppose I shall indulge you tonight.”

He pinches, making Merlin half-yell and half-moan in surprise, before taking one nipple in his mouth. Merlin’s hands come to rest on the back of Gil’s head, burying themselves in his hair. Gil alternates between using his teeth to graze against his nipple, and his tongue to tease. 

Even as one hand is trained on Merlin’s other nipple, Gil’s other hand moves lower, from chest to firm abs, where it’s held back by Merlin’s belt. Merlin doesn’t know if he wants to laugh or cry at that; at this point he’s so plain impatient he does neither. Instead he fumbles with his belt, trying to make sure he doesn’t interrupt the very wonderful things Gil is doing with his mouth.

Thankfully, it comes undone with one click. Gil pauses his administrations to look up at him and chuckle.

“Impatient today, are we?”

“Gil,” Merlin whines. He knows he’s being far too greedy, far too troublesome, he’s not… he’s never like this, usually he likes to give back just as much as he receives, but tonight he just _needs._ “Please?”

Gil sits up straight, giving Merlin a quick once-over, eyes smouldering with some emotion Merlin can’t place. He sighs, changing position; and for a moment Merlin feels an icy stab in his gut, wondering if he’s let himself get too demanding, too comfortable in their relationship—

Gil doesn’t let him have the luxury of wallowing in that train of thought; he gently tugs, prying Merlin’s pants off him and draping one leg over his shoulder. He looks every bit the king he is like that; regal, commanding, demanding.

“I wanted to take my time,” he clarifies, prying open the lid to the bottle of lube with his teeth — _and oh god, was that supposed to look so hot?_ — “but you don’t look like you’d appreciate that.”

Merlin only nods, dazed; and if he's being honest, a little dazzled by his lover. He lies back, taking a deep breath to relax himself; and in practiced sync, Gil slips in one finger, two, three, spreading him wider. 

He tenses for a second, biting down on his hand to muffle his moans, when Gil's fingers brush against that _one_ spot that makes him see stars. Gil's other hand shifts from Merlin's thigh to the base of his dick, forming a ring around the base and working his way up along the length, building up a constant rhythm.

Merlin cries out, not used to feeling so… _much,_ all at once, but naturally Gil pays it no mind. The pace of Gil’s strokes goes from feeling amazing to tortured, even though — or is it because? — he hasn’t varied it in the least. Merlin can’t _do_ anything about how badly he needs more except arch his back, easy tears building at the corners of his eyes.

He knows what kind of picture he must be painting; legs spread with the most pathetic, lewd expression on his face, braid long-ago come undone. The thought, honestly, has no right to excite him as much as it does.

“Gil,” he manages to get out. He intends to say something along the lines of _surely that’s enough preparation, I want you inside me_ but his voice fails him, so all he can do is spread his legs wider, hoping his face is enough to get the message across.

Gil pauses at that - and Merlin can feel the exact second where his self control snaps. He’d tease Gil about it, do something about it, but his thoughts are soon blotted out as Gil shifts and presses in, apparently too overcome to bother with being gradual. 

_Oh, oh, oh god—_

It’s perfect, it’s just so perfect to have Gil fill him so completely, so fully, and Merlin’s _this_ close to crying at how satisfying this feels — and Gil hasn’t even started moving yet.

“Gil, Gil, Gil—”

Merlin knows he shouldn’t, knows each time he speaks Gil’s name the man only grows that much closer to snapping, but he can’t help himself. Every other thought takes a backseat when they’re so deeply connected like this.

“Merlin,” Gil breathes out, shifting to kiss him. Merlin’s grateful for the elevation the numerous pillows at his back give him, allowing him to wrap his arms around Gil and hold him tight.

They’re still mid-kiss when Gil draws back very slightly, pulling out before pushing back in. His breath is hot against Merlin’s cheek, to say nothing of his smouldering gaze. The hand he has on Merlin’s hip also feels like it’s branding him, searing into his flesh; but despite everything — or because of everything — he’s never felt better than he does in this moment.

Gil shifts slightly, lowering himself so his teeth find it easier to nibble on Merlin’s neck, one hand snaking lower down. Gil only applies pressure at first, only a constant pressure that makes Merlin ache for friction. Coupled with the comparatively more - even if slow - attention his ass is getting, it’s enough to drive him mad, arching into Gil’s hand in an attempt to solve his predicament.

Gil smirks, finally giving in. He presses a kiss to Merlin’s neck, giving his dick a slow stroke, thumb teasing the head. He speeds up, timing the strokes to match the rhythm of his thrusts. 

With his lower half getting so much stimulation, it’s only natural for the rest of him to feel neglected. Even as moans continue to spill from his lips, his hands move to his nipples, pinching the sensitive flesh, picking up where Gil had left off. He really ought to feel at least a hint of shame about playing with himself - essentially putting on a show - in front of someone else like this, but…

“Wow,” Gil whispers, choosing to forego speech after that, instead angling his thrusts slightly higher, where he knows—

Merlin yells, loud and needy, already jerking his hips forward in an attempt to feel that exact kind of _too much_ all over again. Thankfully, Gil is more than happy to oblige, bending over so he can keep hitting that same spot, quickening his pace until Merlin’s left clinging on for dear life to a fistful of bedsheets. 

“Gil—!” Merlin cries out. Their emotions run high, and Merlin feeds on them until he can feed no more. Gil’s red eyes are clouded with arousal, yet still transfixed on him, and it’s that gaze that finally pushes him over the edge, yelling Gil’s name as he orgasms. 

Merlin holds Gil in that same position with one arm, making sure his king feels every twitch and tremble as Merlin’s orgasm courses through him. Gil curses under his breath as Merlin’s walls clench around him; he holds his own for all of three seconds before his own orgasm makes him see stars, spilling his seed inside the other.

They’re both panting heavily as Gil sinks on top of him, spent and sated. Merlin is more than happy to wrap his arms around the other, shifting so they’re lying side by side, Gil’s head resting in the crook of Merlin’s neck. There’s an odd kind of… satisfaction, fulfillment in bottoming for someone, and Merlin had honestly forgotten exactly how amazing it could feel.

“Gil,” Merlin whispers. He frowns at the lack of a response, poking Gil’s cheek with a finger. “My king.”

Gil sighs, wordlessly reaching for the other side of the bed and fumbling around until his hand finds Merlin's suit. 

"Here," he tosses it over Merlin, still careful to avoid getting anything unpleasant on it.

“Uh,” Merlin reddens a little, “you figured it out?”

“No,” Gil nestles back into the crook of his neck, draping one arm across Merlin’s chest.

“Well.” Merlin swallows, bewildered at this sudden shyness that overcomes him. A deep breath calms his nerves somewhat. “Okay, first off…”

He fishes a small white box out of the pocket, pressing it into Gil’s palm.

“My Valentine’s gift to you.”

Gil’s plainly _thrilled,_ a twinkle in his eyes as he accepts the gift and holds it close. He takes a moment to savour the scent of chocolate in the air, and Merlin half-expects him to open it right there. But he doesn’t; instead setting it gently aside and looking up at Merlin.

“I accept with pleasure. Now, do me a favour and check the other pocket.”

“Eh?”

Merlin complies, setting Ishtar’s chocolates out of the way before checking deeper and — yeah, there definitely is something down there. 

It’s… a box, similar to his own, a curt little ribbon wrapped around it. All that time in Merlin’s pocket didn’t seem to have made it any worse for wear. Merlin’s not sure _why_ his heart beats so loud as he simply looks at it in his hands, then shifts to look at Gil’s face.

“I’ve graced you with a present for the occasion as well,” Gil declares, a familiar smug grin plastered on his face. “Be grateful… Merlin.”

“I…” Merlin _is_ grateful. He really is happy. He absolutely loves this, so there’s no… there’s no reason for his eyes to tear up like this. “I am, my king.”

He hasn’t even opened it yet, but this is all just a bit too much to handle for a little incubus like him. The feelings radiating from this little box are immense — just touching it makes him feel giddy, and he’s never… he’s never been gifted something made specifically with himself in mind, so—

“Fool,” Gil grins, reaching out to wipe a tear from his face, “were you moved to tears by this insignificant little present? Perhaps you’d be better off not knowing what I have planned for after this.”

Merlin laughs at that, dabbing at his eyes with a hand and finally opening up the box. It's silly, because… he just starts crying again, as soon as his eyes catch sight of the rings, two elegant bands of silver that seem to glow even in the dimly lit room.

Gil sits up, pulling Merlin close and taking his hand.

“It’s only a little token of my affection,” he announces, slipping one of the rings on to Merlin’s finger and kissing it, “but I did have it made with you in mind.”

“Th-thanks,” Merlin attempts a smile, but he has to stop to rub tears out of his eyes, “I love you too.”

Gil stills for one second, and if Merlin could see properly he would have treasured the momentary shock on his face, but as it is he only catches Gil click his tongue in displeasure.

“How dare you say it before I did,” he wags an accusatory finger in Merlin’s direction, “this is an offense of the highest order, Merlin.”

That gets Merlin to laugh, and he raises his hand high, delighting in the way the ring seems to shine.

“I suppose I shall have to take my punishment then, my king.”

“Acceptable. For starters, I sentence you to accompany me while I revisit a leisure spot I’m particularly fond of in my homeland…”

**Author's Note:**

> The trip Gil is talking about near the end is a reference to the one he promises on his Valentine's CE, which you can see here https://fategrandorder.fandom.com/wiki/M%C5%AB%C5%A1u_Purattu
> 
> Thank you for reading uwu


End file.
